


Understanding From The Inside

by WittyWallflower



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Body Swap, Friendship, Gen, Humor... kinda?, Prosthetic Genitalia, Trans Malcolm Reed - Freeform, Trans Male Character, no body dysphoria mentions, this is not a heavy coming out story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26172910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WittyWallflower/pseuds/WittyWallflower
Summary: Certified Disaster Magnet Trip Tucker is somehow swapping bodies with random members of the crew he interacts with. Malcolm had really, really hoped to avoid being one of the unlucky few but there was always the risk, working as closely as he did with the Commander. When he wakes up in Trip's quarters, and Trip's body, Malcolm's most guarded truth is revealed to the man inhabiting his body.
Relationships: Malcolm Reed & Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Understanding From The Inside

**Author's Note:**

> since its my first time writing a trans character, i'll err on the side of caution in terms of trigger warnings. i wanted to keep it light so there's no transphobia or body dysphoria or really anything that seemed like a downer for a reader just looking for some fun. not to erase any of that struggle, its just really not my story to tell. the trans character IS outed to someone not by choice, but not in a way that is personally painful to him. Call me out on my cis bullshit if this story needs it anywhere plz n ty

After the third time Commander Charles Tucker III found his conscious mind temporarily transferred to the body of another crew-member, whose mind was left piloting the body of the ship's Chief Engineer, Lt Malcolm Reed had grown quite worried. Beyond his very strong concerns for the safety of everyone on board, he was deeply disquieted on a personal level. It didn't feel good to do it but he began to absent himself from Tucker's company when he could, eating in his quarters and avoiding the more social areas of the ship where Trip spent his off-duty time. By the fourth body swapping incident, the armory officer was very subtly beginning to distance himself in any way he could manage, sitting or standing as far away from the other man as he could when their responsibilities to the ship brought them into contact. Malcolm could only hope (without any actual hope) that with 82 other people around, the odds would be in his favor.

Trip might object to Malcolm's brand of cynical pessimism, but it did afford a modicum of comfort the morning Malcolm opened his eyes to see not his own tidy quarters but the sort of clutter familiar to one uncouth Yank. Sure, everything was shot to hell, but Malcolm _did_ get to enjoy a short moment of smugness for being right, at the very least. 

Seeing no reason to delay anything and thus prolong the anxiety, Malcolm made himself adequately presentable before tapping the communicator panel by the door.

"Lieutenant Reed to Commander Tucker."

It was strange to be comm-ing his own quarters, asking after Trip in the man's own southern accent.

There was a long silence.

If he'd woken the Commander, the man was no doubt experiencing a very discombobulating moment.

"Trip? It's Malcolm, are you up?" He tried again.

The comm line beeped open but there was a pause before a sleep-roughened British voice spoke.

"Is there maybe something you want to tell me, Mal? Something your best friend could stand to know?"

Malcolm sighed.

He was in for no doubt _several_ conversations about this in the near future. Conversations that had always been inevitable, and he'd always known that. But he'd never been able to actually figure out what he would say when they came to pass, so it had been easier to avoid thinking about them. Pretending the subject would just casually come up one day and save him the trouble of initiating it. But now that he was finally confronted with it, he desperately wanted to keep avoiding the matter.

"Seeing as you now know, I don't think you need me to tell you," Malcolm said. A lifetime of control kept the expressive Southern voice unemotional and unrevealing even though it wasn't his own.

Several rooms away Trip squinted at the comm panel, running his tongue along his cheek as he often did when giving something intense consideration. It was Malcolm's face now and though it felt a bit strange with a different mouth, the gesture was still reassuring in its familiarity. It helped keep him grounded while he thought. 

Malcolm was a reticent man at the best of times. He didn't give up secrets easily. Trip had come to know him enough that he didn't need to be told the man wasn't wild to have the secrets he had chosen to keep even from his best friend forcefully exposed. When Malcolm didn't want to talk, pressing the issue only made him retreat behind his walls.

"Okay," Trip acknowledged that Reed didn't want to be questioned. But... "Just... one thing?"

Malcolm jerked a tense nod before remembering it couldn't be seen through the comm.

"What is it, Commander?" he asked cautiously, not entirely sure what he was so worried about hearing.

"What do I need to do to... keep your body the way you want it? Just so you don't come back to any unpleasant surprises."

Malcolm was stunned speechless for a moment by the thoughtfulness. At best he would have guessed Trip was going to be an uncomfortable inhabitant of the armory officer's body, uneasy with the physical form itself as much as the facts of the situation. Trip volunteering, unasked, to take on the task of being almost a caregiver to Malcolm, physically... it was touching. 

He cleared his throat of emotion so he could speak without the Southerner's voice cracking.

"How about I come pick you up for breakfast? I can explain my morning routine. And grab a spare toothbrushes. I know its your mouth but using your toothbrush still feels unsanitary somehow."

"Sounds good," Trip chuckled, but the comm line didn't immediately close. "Mal? Could ya maybe hurry? I really gotta take a leak."

The line beeped closed as the Lieutenant almost chuckled and made his way to his own quarters down the corridor. Trip opened the door and was immediately distracted staring at himself.

It was _his_ face. Still a little odd to see it without usual flipped image from the mirror but otherwise familiar. Unremarkably so. Trip wasn't sure what kinda reaction he kept expecting to have to the sight of himself from the outside. Trip just thought he looked like himself. He wondered how long Malcolm had been up to manage to get himself into uniform already. It looked like he had made an attempt to tame Trip's usual bedhead but what worked on Malcolm's dark locks didn't do much on shorter blonde strands.

What really caught Trip's eye was the stance and bearing. That was all Malcolm. Posture upright, spine straight. Standing at parade rest with feet shoulder width apart and hands clasped behind his back. His expression was calm and neutral.

He both did, and did not, look like Commander Charles Tucker the third. Trip had to admit though.. 'serious' actually looked pretty good on him.

The calm eyes began to spark a bit with exasperation and annoyance in the way Malcolm's did sometimes. But the mouth, Trip's mouth, was so used to easy smiles that it was harder to suppress the flicker of amusement that lifted one corner of the lips.

"May I enter my quarters, or are you going to stand there admiring yourself until you wet my pants?" Malcolm asked,acerbic.

"Right."

Trip stepped back so the man in his body could enter.

"So, uh..." he started uncertainly.

Malcolm waved a hand towards the door of the lavatory, gesture not as smooth as he would like since he hadn't had the chance to adjust to being in the engineer's body. The muscle weight was distributed differently than in his own trim frame and thus responded differently to his movements.

"You step inside, I'll, err, just talk you through it from out here, shall I?" He told Trip. 

A dark eyebrow raised in question and Malcolm watched his own lips purse a little in a very 'Trip' expression of confusion.

"Do you think this will somehow be _less_ awkward with us both standing in the same room, staring at each other throughout?" Malcolm asked sardonically.

A slim shoulder shrugged acknowledgement to that and Trip stepped inside the bathroom, closing the door between them. Since Malcolm had obviously seen it all before and Trip couldn't exactly avert his eyes like a gentleman should, it was a rather absurd attempt at privacy but neither man pointed that out. Malcolm leaned against the bulkhead nearby.

"You'll need to remove the prosthesis," he instructed through the door. "There is a subdermal switch to disengage the attachments at the base, near the perineum. Its easiest to lift the, err..." he groped awkwardly.

"'Bait and tackle'?" Trip offered through the door, humor wry when filtered through Malcolm's clipped accent.

Malcolm shook his head at the bloody irreverent Yank. "If you like."

"All right, lift the bait and tack- Oh!" Trip exclaimed suddenly, then huffed a laugh of wonder. "Damn, the sensation on this thing is amazing! This must be top-of-the-line-"

"Commander," Malcolm interrupted, amused but impatient. "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop fondling me and get down to business."

"Right, right. Sorry." The very contrite apology was followed by a slight shuffle, then a gusty sigh of relief Malcolm probably could have heard from the corridor. Thankfully Trip was a fast learner with anything mechanical and didn't need any advice on reattaching the prosthesis. The faucet ran and a few moments later the door opened.

Not that the first piss of the morning wasn't a deeply satisfying thing sometimes, but Malcolm wondered why he never seemed to glimpse a look of such easy contentment on his own face in the mirror. What business did Trip have managing to feel so relaxed in a body that was not only not his own, but possibly as unfamiliar to him as another human body could be? Evidently Tucker was so assured in who he was, so comfortable in his own skin that it didn't actually matter what skin he was in. Trip truly knew he was and didn't doubt it, and Malcolm's envy of that had little to do with the differences between their bodies. 

Trip nodded as he stepped aside to allow Malcolm into the bathroom with him. The fact that it was his own eyes looking back at him didn't make it any easier to meet the man's gaze knowing he'd just touched him about as intimately as it gets. Even though he'd been touching Malcolm's body with Malcolm's own hands; that just added another layer of complexity to the question of how guilty Trip should or should not be feeling here. 

Malcolm was pointedly avoiding verbal acknowledgement of the situation by instead addressing their direct needs in the moment. With that in mind he dug through his cupboard, managing to scare up luckily not one but two spare toothbrushes. Malcolm's own thin lips smiled thanks at him as Trip accepted one. The Southern man grinned at the drop of a hat. On Reed's mouth it didn't quite come readily; it looked a little creaky almost, as if stiff from infrequent use.

They both set to brushing their teeth, standing almost shoulder to shoulder in the small bathroom. The silence was a bit awkward but both men honestly found it a bit of a relief. Neither of them had any idea where to begin. There was a lot to say, and much of it a potential minefield of hurt feelings.

Malcolm offered the shaver to Trip next. Tucker was usually happy enough to forego a shave when it seemed appropriate and an extremely messed-up situation was enough excuse by his mind. But it wasn't _his_ beard he was growing, it was Malcolm's, and he knew the other officer was a fierce adherent to propriety. Thus he didn't bother to extend the offer that Malcolm could let the blonde stubble grow for a day if he didn't want to bother. Trip just passed the shaver over when he was finished with it. Malcolm offered him a tub of pomade in exchange and Trip set to trying to set the dark hair he now wore to a more professional, collected appearance.

"So..." Trip said when they had both finished grooming and he had slipped on the clean uniform Malcolm pulled from the wardrobe "Breakfast? Or should we go tell the captain what's up first?"

A diligent officer would make his report immediately, of course, but before Malcolm could say as much there was a very audible rumble from his, or rather Trip's stomach.

The engineer grinned sheepishly at the sound, the expression making the Brit's face look boyish.

"I may have worked through dinner last night. Sorry." He apologized for Malcolm's discomfort, knowing exactly what a yawning bottomless pit his stomach could be on a hungry morning.

"Breakfast it is then. Shall we?" Malcolm keyed open the door and they headed for the mess.

Malcolm politely suggested Trip avoid the huevos rancheros and settle for a milder omelet if he wanted to avoid visiting Phlox for a heartburn remedy later. Trip thankfully had no objections to any food the other man wanted to put in him so Malcolm helped himself to a heaping serving of pancakes with twice the peanut butter he usually used and a healthy dollop of syrup besides. Another plate joined his tray with toast, bacon _and_ sausage, as well as half a grapefruit.

Trip limited his repast to what Malcolm usually ate for breakfast but didn't even bat an eyelash at the amount of food Malcolm started putting away. Eating enough for two people was normal for Tucker. It was amazing how many calories the man could consume, then apparently burn off climbing around maintenance ducts and fine-tuning the warp core. Only to turn around and run on empty for hours when a shift that started in the early morning turned into another all-night double.

Well, the least Malcolm could do while inhabiting Trip's body was keep it properly fueled. And the fuel was fine indeed this morning.

"Mmmm, Trip," Malcolm mumbled around a mouth of pancakes. "I don't know if its a difference in body chemistry or what, but this is particularly delicious today. You should definitely give it a try it this way sometime, your taste-buds certainly seems to like it."

Malcolm hummed happily and took another heaping bite. For some reason he was far less concerned with proper table manners when it wasn't actually _his_ mouth talking while full of half-chewed food. He shoveled the food in quickly in a fitting imitation of the Commander when he is about to be late for a senior staff meeting. 

Trip didn’t respond, only picked up his mug and took a pensive sip, frowning at the coffee and setting it aside when it didn't taste quite right. After several silent bites on both their parts, Malcolm swallowed the last of his pancakes and set his fork down to give Trip a searching look for a moment. 

“I imagine you have questions," Malcolm said.

Trip startled a bit, broken out of his thoughts, and fidgeted with his fork.

“Uh, yeah." A pause. "You got any, uh... specs i could have a look at? For...” Trip trailed off awkwardly and took a hasty bite of his omelet to cover his discomfort.

Malcolm gaping dumbfounded at the other man. If anyone else in the mess had glanced over, they would have seen the blonde Tucker leaning back in his chair, staring at the Lieutenant. And wouldn't have found it noteworthy or strange in the least. The men were often spotted dining together. But to Malcolm it was far from just another day in the mess hall. On top of being in another man's body, everything he might have thought he knew was getting tossed out on its ear. Absolutely nothing about the Commander's reaction was fitting the general pattern of these things, or any of Malcolm's more private predictions ( _fears_ ) for how this situation might play out.

“That’s what you ask?” Malcolm almost laughed out in his astonishment. “Not ‘ _when did you first realize?’_ or ‘ _what does your family think_?’ or ‘ _why does no on board know_?’?”

Trip snorted. It wasn’t even entirely inelegant coming from Reed’s refined demeanor.

“I know _why_ , Malcolm.," Trip assert unequivocally. "You’re a real private guy, you play it close to the vest. Hell, it took conversations with half a dozen people in three different system just to find out what kinda birthday cake you might like.” 

Even that had taken technically violating patient confidentiality. 

“And if anyone could stonewall a ship full of nosy gossips, its you," Trip said with the assurance of stating a fact. "No one knowing is frankly the _least_ surprising part about the whole situation. As for the rest... yeah, I want to know. Whatever you are willing to tell me. But satisfying my curiosity isn't a good enough reason ask those questions before you’re ready to answer them. ”

Trip looked Malcolm straight in the eye then and Malcolm had to swallow a lump in his throat. In trying to convey his sincerity, Trip projected more emotional onto that look than the lieutenant's face usually expressed in an entire week. Any doubts Malcolm had over the years about telling Trip had truly been wasted worries. His best friend's acceptance of him was firm, unconditional, and Malcolm wondered just how a taciturn man managed to earn the devoted friendship of such an eager, giving soul.

A blonde head dipped, acknowledgement and thanks in one gesture. An equally sincere, if somewhat rusty, smile in return and a moment of silent shared emotion passed between the two.

“Anyway,” Trip mercifully redirected the moment for them both before it became too overwrought, “being an engineer, it was really just force of habit that made me ask about...”

“The technical specs for my dick?” Malcolm’s tone was dry, but the irrepressible Tucker lips smirked despite himself. 

There was a laugh that turned a few heads around the mess hall. The kind of honest, easy laugh that had always drawn people to Trip Tucker in any kind of social setting. The kind of laugh that, when it came from the lips of one Malcolm Reed, was entirely unknown to the rest of the crew. No one else had managed to get more than a hearty chuckle at best from the serious and reserved armory officer. 

Trip quickly swallowed his amusement at the other man’s humorous crudeness. He shrugged, warming slightly with embarrassment and knowing the blush would be even more visible on Malcolm’s pale skin than it usually was through the tan Trip didn't seem to lose no matter how long he was in space, far away from Mother Sol. 

“You know how i get with gadgets,” he ducked his dark head self-consciously. “Its weird though, I understand. I realized how inappropriate it probably was as the words were leaving my mouth.”

“It’s a bit strange, I’ll admit. But,” Malcolm shrugged, the forced nonchalant gesture looking natural on Trip’s body, “maybe someday. They _are_ rather impressive.”

In sedate slate blue eyes the shade of an English sea, mischief was usually only hinted at. Spotted by only someone who knew when to look for it, and cared enough to look in the first place. But now coming from eyes the color of the ocean off the Florida panhandle, merriment sparkled in a way that made it easy for Trip to shed any lingering awkwardness and smile happily through the rest of the meal. 


End file.
